


Twisted Around Your Fingers

by action-cat (clytemnestras)



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Blindfolds, Breathplay, Fluff and Crack, Gags, Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:54:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/pseuds/action-cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(four times they used scarves for unintended uses + the one time they didn’t)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twisted Around Your Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> rejected title 3: lizzie i hate you & i'm going to hell

The day is made up of lazy promises, mid-morning light streaming through the window and soft, soft sheets. He kind of never wants to move from the burrow of the duvet. But Gerard’s body isn’t where it’s meant to be, warmly wrapped around his.

 

The patch of body heat is an empty space. The dip is cavernous. Ryan hates everything.

 

Ryan groans out something sleepily obscene to no one, to the whole universe and hoists himself into sitting. The blankets fall away like defectors in a war. Traitorous bastards.

 

Gerard is stood at the end of the bed, admiring himself in the mirror, Ryan's current favourite scarf twined through his hair and around his long, pale throat.

 

_Oh._

 

And Ryan doesn’t exactly trust his legs but they’re dragging him out of the bed, comfort forgotten to itching fingers. He closes in around Gerard, plucks the scarf from between his fingers and slowly wraps it around his boyfriend’s throat; pressing their bodies close, closer together.

 

Gerard inhales sharply, presses back into Ryan’s touch.

 

“I  - um. Yeah.” His eyes fall shut and his head drops forward.

 

Ryan rocks his hips into Gerard’s and tugs softly on the scarf.

 

Gerard makes a noise as his breath leaves him, and Ryan shushes him, pushes the hair from his face, places a kiss to his ear.

 

He loosens his grip, let’s Gerard take another breath, then takes the air away.

 

**

 

He needs it to all go away.

 

He can’t let his head fill with the oceans and the shadows and memory and it’s his dad’s birthday except how it’s not because it’s never going to be that again and it’s wonderful and sickening at the same time and it has to _go away._

 

Ryan doesn’t hear Gerard sneak up behind him, not until arms are cradling him to a warm chest.

 

Gerard’s face presses into his throat, peppers it with kisses. It’s soft and wet and not-quite enough to take him to where he has to be. He whines softly and Gerard turns him so they’re face to face and presses their lips together.

 

It’s slow and lazy, long moments of breathlessness. Gerard’s tongue strokes at his until his skin stops buzzing. He opens his eyes as his clothes are tugged away and he surges forward every time their lips seperate.

 

Gerard steps back, still wrapped in his jeans and black v-neck and Ryan shivers, long and wiry and exposed. Gerard smiles at him, slow and devilish and the terriblewonderful thoughts disintegrate from Ryan’s mind. Gerard reaches back and pulls a scarf from his pocket.

 

It’s green satin, opaque and soft and he trails it along Ryan’s skin. Goosebumps spring up wherever it touches and those soft sounds filling the room are coming from him and he can’t stop them for the world.

 

Gerard turns him around, kisses a wet path down his back, strokes his fingers teasingly against Ryan’s ass. Then the scarf covers Ryan’s eyes, and the world evaporates.

  
  


**

 

“Oh my god, do you ever shut up?” Ryan throws his guitar down on the bed, shoves the notepad away with his toes. Trying to make a living out of music is hard enough without his boyfriend’s stream-of-conscious blabbermouth killing every note he gets down with arrows of nonsense.

 

“I wasn’t talking to you, man. Calm down.” Gerard is hunched over on the chair, doodling idly over magazine faces turning plastic beauty into ugly caricature. It’s kind of breathtaking, the long black lines of reconstruction, split lips and scars. It’s also really fucking annoying when he narrates to himself the fragmented stories of every disfigurement he sketches.

 

 _“That’s the fucking problem!”_ Ryan hisses. It’s unfair, he knows. He also cares very little about that.

 

Gerard rolls his eyes and twists so he’s half on the floor, spread on his stomach. “What are you gonna do, shut me up?”

 

Somewhere in heaven a lightbulb explodes.

 

Ryan slinks away, opening his closet and digging. He pulls out a white chiffon scarf and ties a knot in the centre. He snaps it between his hands then crawls over to Gerard where he’s sprawled on the carpet, mouth open as he shades bruises over Brad Pitt’s eyes. He brings the scarf in front of Gerard’s face and just waits for a moment, sees his eyes go wide and his throat swallow. He opens his mouth a little wider and Ryan ties the scarf in place.

 

He pulls them up so Gerard is sat between his legs, then he pushes his hand down into Gerard’s sweatpants and curls his hand around him in a loose fist, pumping lazily.

 

When Gerard whimpers against the balled-up fabric, Ryan takes his hand away.

 

“Are you going to be quiet for me now?”

 

**

 

He loves the feeling of silk around his fingers, always has.

 

It feels even better when it’s knotted tightly around his wrists.

 

Gerard is kneeling over him, holding his legs apart and his hands are tied above his head to the headboard and he tugs hard every time Gerard trails his lips along his thighs, his fingers between his cheeks. He’s been all spread open for the last hour, and he’s hard and desperate and all he ever gets is mischievous laughter and kitten licks.

 

Two fingers trail up along his hips, slide up and down once then disappear.

 

He moans helplessly and his hips buck up. He pulls hard on his restraints and the knots don’t budge.

 

Ryan resents boy scouts more than ever before.

 

Gerard wraps a hand around Ryan’s ankle, then something cold and soft follows. He looks down as Gerard fastens another scarf to the end of the bed. He moves to the other side and does the same thing, ties the scarf around his ankle then to the metal frame of the bed. He leans up to massage at Ryan’s wrists, to keep circulation flowing then settles back between his spread legs. His tongue traces patterns low on Ryan’s belly and his fingers slide against Ryan’s ass. A cap is flicked open and shut. The fingers press more firmly, slick and _there, finally._

 

Ryan’s words fall right out of his head.

 

**

 

The mirror really isn’t wide enough for both of them at once so Ryan steps back and let’s Gerard steal the focus for a moment, watches him paint sunset colours over his eyelids with shadows in pink and peach.

 

It’s a different intricacy to Ryan’s delicate black spirals, abstract patterns that decorate his skin in falsified tattoo ink impermanence. It’s the same kind of gorgeous though.

 

His eyes traces the lines of Gerard’s body, the sharp blue suit that sculpts his frame into something coveted, the open-collar shirt that highlights his throat and it’s kind of gorgeous, except it’s _imperfect._ It’s missing something.

 

Ryan slides off his perch on the sink and scurries to the bedroom door, tugs off the piece of fabric draped over the handle.

 

It’s a faded yellow scarf, soft with age and delicate and perfect. He takes it into the bathroom, twined between his fingers then brings it up to Gerard’s neck. He ties it into a loose knot and tucks the trailing ends into the suit jacket, fixing up the lean lines again.

 

Gerard twists his head to capture Ryan’s lips. He giggles against his mouth.

 

“Do I look pretty, now?”

 

“Indescribable.”

  
  



End file.
